


Dungeons & Legends - and The Rise of Adalace

by EmilyVioletSciuto



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, technically no AU but
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyVioletSciuto/pseuds/EmilyVioletSciuto
Summary: “I'm sorry, Sara”, Ava mumbles against her neck, “I know that you're trying and I appreciate it, really! I'm just” - she lifts her head again, not quite able to look her girlfriend in the eye, worrying at the handle of her cup - “hungover, I guess, and”Ava releases a shaky breath, is relieved when Sara finishes the sentence for her, “going through some stuff, yeah, I know” A hand pushes some now-ruffled hair out of her face, cups her cheek. “I was hoping to take your mind of it”“The tyrant's rebellious daughters. I'm sure you've heard of us, soldier.” She has, of course she has. She wants to say so but it seems like she's forgotten how to talk, like all she knows how to do is fight. So - when she's suddenly and violently ripped out of what's been her life for what feels like weeks – she starts getting a little dizzy, the cave seems to swirl around her.“My name is Lace. And what is yours?”ORThe legends' dnd game, both in and out of character.
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Dungeons & Legends - and The Rise of Adalace

Sara lifts up a finger to interrupt her girlfriend's protests. “Nope, no! There's really no point in arguing, babe. It's part of life on the Waverider, just like cleaning duties.” Ava wants to object, after all Ray and her take over most of those duties. Thus, you should think, she'd get a pass on certain … other Legends activities.

She's about to voice those thoughts but Sara brings the warning finger down and tips Ava's cup, prompting her to take another sip of that hangover cure that has her toes curling – and not in the good way. See, if she weren't feeling like utter rubbish right now, she might've -

“Ava, I'm not going to say it again: Pick up the pencil – yeah, just like that, good girl! Now scribble your name, top right corner where it says PLAYER NAME. Oh, would you look at that – beautiful!” Ava huffs.

“Now, first thing you do is pick a race” She opens a rather big book that thumps against the mattress, whirling up enough air to move their - their, isn't that what she always wanted, and yet she has to swallow - bed sheets. “A race?”, Ava says, not really receptive in this state, and Sara nods, “Yes, you see” - she turns the book around so that Ava is able to look at it - ”there would be the dwarves: small but hardy people, often skillful warriors, high constitution, a little slower and they have Darkvision!” Ava only frowns.

“Yeah, thought that wasn't really for you, though it would've been fun – may tall-ass girlfriend playing a little dwarf” There's a dreamy little smile on her lips, then she continues, “Well, an elf maybe. Very graceful and dexterous and they often have a innate talent for magic, nature based magic most of the time but then there are the Drow, dark elves like John pla-”

Ava grimaces and Sara cocks her head, raises up her brows. “Really, you're not going to play an elf because he does? Babe! You'd make a great elf” She purses her lips as she scoots closer to where Ava's sitting cross-legged and across from her, leans over the handbook. “You would've looked so hot with those pointy ears”, she muses, pushing a blonde lock behind a very much not pointed ear – but when she squints her eyes and lets her imagination run wild …

She's full on pouting by the time she's pulling back, finds Ava blushing slightly. She'd make such a good elf. “Nate's a half-elf. You could still be a half-elf!” But she sees it on her face, the way her love's frown only deepens. Sara relents, “Okay, no elf then.” She's going through all those races – frankly, it's a little much for Ava and her headache, between dragon blood and fey blood and a devil's blood.

“Can't I just be normal? I don't know. Are there regular old humans?” Sara yanks her head up, her hand still pointing to the picture of a half-orc, halting in the middle of a fun fact about Mick's character Mi. “A human?” Sara's shoulders sink but, if Ava is reading this right, not in a disappointed way, more of a “Why didn't I start with that. I should've known”-way.

“There are humans, yeah. Ray's playing one” - her eyes are twinkling - “Can you live with playing the same race as Ray?” Ava makes a small growling sound, would cross her arms if she wasn't holding a cup in one and a pencil in the other hand. “I don't care who plays what. That would be ridiculous. I wasn't going to play an elf anyways” The look Sara gives her tells her she doesn't quite believe her. “So, do I just write that down here? What's next – class, right?”

Sara dwells on it a while but in the end decides to take advantage of Ava trying to deflect. “Yes, class”, she answers and continues flipping through her book.

“Barbarian – heavy, tank kind of characters, close combat, all strength. We're going to skip the bard, you won't play John's class anyways” She pretends to not have heard her girlfriend's little noise of protest. “Cleric – basically the healer of the party but they also have powerful divine magic. Druid -” She goes on like that, looking up every once in a while to gauge Ava's reaction who seems to do nothing but frown.

“-and that's the wizard”, she ends, eyes full of expectation, “So?” Ava's just trying to recall literally anything of what Sara had said. Yes, she'd registered that sound had come out of her girlfriend's mouth but the specifics, the words, hadn't quite gotten through the pounding in her head or if they had, she'd forgotten them right after – again: Her brain wasn't quite working.

“Uh”, she clears her throat, “I don't know. What is it you play?” - “A monk!” She finds Ava looking at her puzzled before erupting into laughter. “What?”, she deadpans, “What's so funny?”

“A monk?”, Ava manages to bring out between laughs that shaken her body. She has to set her mug down or she's afraid she might spill the muck all over Sara's precious handbook. “Yeah, that sounds very much like you, m-hm!”

Sara – who is not holding anything – does cross her arms in front of her chest, draws her eyebrows together. “You didn't listen to anything I said, did you? Monks are the games' martial artists – oh, haha, you can stop laughing now!”  
Ava tries, she tries, but she'd imagined Sara in some brown frock with the top of her head shaved. The thought makes her believe she's still a little intoxicated – or just loosing her mind for that matter.

“Are you done?” Something in her tone has shifted but Ava could swear it had started out as amused with how the corners of her girlfriend's mouth had twitched as she'd tried to suppress a smile. A hand falling into hers has Ava looking up and curling her fingers around Sara's.

“Look, Ava, I can't force you to do this and I also don't want to. It's supposed to be fun and ridiculous – well, at least when we started this the dragons and goblins and trolls made our life seem fairly normal” Her sigh sounds through their room. With one motion she pushes the book to the side. It falls to the floor clattering, the book she'd called holy repeatedly, but it'd been in the way and - if something finds itself standing in between Sara and the one she loves - “And it's a team building thing. Gideon likes to work in whatever conflict needs to be resolved. How did you think we taught Charlie the concept of bedtime?” That raises a giggle out of Ava. “A lot of points of exhaustion. And it killed two of Gary's characters”, Sara explains. “Points of exhaustion? What's that?”

“Something we don't have to worry about right now”, she says with a wave of her hand, “More importantly, babe” She scoots closer until her knees are sliding over her girlfriend's and she's close enough to bump her nose against Ava's. “You are a part of this team - of the family! - and I want you to feel like you are. And I know that that's not easy for you, so … I wanna help, right?”

Ava's forehead drops down and onto Sara's shoulder whose hand flies up instinctively to run her fingers through those locks, massaging her scalp with familiarity because it feels like coming home. She knows exactly how Ava likes it, what will relieve the pressure behind her temples after a day of worrying, scowling and frowning too much, what will pull small happy noises from her, have her snuggle deeper into the crook of her neck. And – every time anew that it hits her - Sara can't help but feel a little proud of herself when she realizes that that thought does not scare her.

“I'm sorry, Sara”, Ava mumbles against her neck, “I know that you're trying and I appreciate it, really! I'm just” - she lifts her head again, not quite able to look her girlfriend in the eye, worrying at the handle of her cup - “hungover, I guess, and”

Ava releases a shaky breath, is relieved when Sara finishes the sentence for her, “going through some stuff, yeah, I know” A hand pushes some now-ruffled hair out of her face, cups her cheek. “I was hoping to take your mind of it” Ava's chuckle is a sad shadow of what Sara is used to, of the sound that Sara's come to love so much you might call it an addiction. “That's what you said last night” Sara's hand shifts a little, so it rests against Ava's jaw, urging her to look up.

“Since that doesn't seem to have worked” - “Sara, no. You're being perfect. I just … unloaded everything yesterday – onto Mick of all people – and while it all feels really foggy it also feels really fresh, you know.” She can see Sara brooding, taking in her words, testing them. She sees the way with which Sara's eyes are flickering over her face, trying to read her and what she needs and Ava has never felt so seen.

“For what it's worth”, Sara says after a moment, stumbling a little over her words, unsure if she's going about this the right way, “I see you as a fighter – disciplined, skilled in multiple combat styles but not relying on pure rage. Maybe with the soldier background” It takes Ava a while to understand what she's talking about. “Strategic, yes, but you're not one to hide in the shadows. And you just don't strike me as a magic-user, babe”

Ava's next chuckle already sounds much better. They can go deeper into her issues another time – oh, and they will! - but maybe some distraction is exactly the right thing in this moment. “A fighter. How does that sound?” - “Good, yeah. Now what?”

A grin splits Sara's face and she grabs for the velvety bag that's been sitting on her bedside table. It makes clacking sounds as it's joggled. “Now”, she draws out, “we roll your stats” - she holds up a finger before Ava can voice her question - “I'll explain everything once we get there. Firstly you'll have to roll 4d6.” She opens the bag to reveal a wild collection of dice in all shapes and colors.

“Uhm, 4d6?”, Ava asks, staring at them in confusion. “Oh, of course. The first number tells you how many dice to roll or you can just roll the same dice four times. The d just stands for dice. And the last number decides what kind of dice you roll, it's the number of sides it has. A d6, six sides, so it's just a regular cubical dice. Now choose one!”

Ava stares a little longer before she reaches inside and brings forth a glimmering cyan d6 with golden numbers. She turns it in her hand a couple of times, inspecting it. Sara finds the little frown that settles between her brows so endearing that she gives her a some time before whispering softly, “So, you roll it four times, write down the numbers you get and cross out the lowest number, add up the rest and that'll be your stat which we need six of.”

Ava begins to nod slowly, rolls her dice. Sara gasps softly. “Are you serious? Of course your first roll is a 6 – mine was a 1!” It's the first genuine smile she gets from Ava that day.

  
_She can't feel most of her body and what she can feel is burning, lost her shield a while ago but managed to block most hits with her sword. Aside from the one or other bruise - from being thrown against a tree or to the ground, hit with some warhammer once – she isn't really hurt, it's more about the exhaustion that makes her limbs grow heavy. She has to adjust the hold on her weapon or she's afraid she might drop it._

_It's unbearably hot down here, along the walls fires are burning. Some of her men have been pushed into those flames that do no harm to their “masters” - her men though … The smell of burning flesh has her stomach turning but at the same time she can't deny her hunger (and that thought has her feeling even more sick). How long have these fights been going on? It certainly feels like weeks._

_She almost can't remember a time where there was no sword in her hand – aside from the countless times that she'd lost one, scrambled to grab another one she'd find on the ground, often still clutched in between dead hands - digging into the enemy. When was the last time any of them had eaten?_

_The smell of burning flesh and she feels like she's boiling in her armor. She wants to punch herself. How could she be this stupid, have an error like this in her calculations? How could she put her men into metal armor when it was to be expected that they'd end up here? Yes, she'd hoped they'd be able to lure them out but she should've known how bad the odds were. And if she was being honest with herself – she had known which makes it so much worse._

_She wants to punch herself but because that would be very much counterproductive she lets out a growl and puts her anger into the next blow. The tiefling is standing with her back to her and before she'd learned what war was she would've been horror-stricken just by the idea of -_

_Her sword collides with a wooden quarterstaff. The shrill “No!" reaches her ears only after and it rings in her ears. The action throws her off. She feels like she hasn't seen a face in forever. It's all grimaces and helmets down here. The tieflings are all horns, empty eyes and glistening teeth._

_She's standing in front of a small woman with her staff in one hand. The other one is stretched out towards the soldier in a halting manner. Her face is half covered by tangled strands of hair whose color she can't make out in the dim light (maybe a dark shade of red, brown?). She can't see the woman's eyes either. They just look like black orbs to her. But it's one hundred percent more of a face than she's seen in so long. Tongues of fire are licking at the walls, flickering and throwing shadows, accentuating her myriad of freckles._

_She sees the tail flicking around the apparently-tiefling-after-all only later._

  
“You – you have a tail?” Sara could see her swallowing visibly. She wants to bark out a laugh but opts to smirk at her instead. “Yeah, why? Used to have horns, too!”

“ _Please. We're not the enemy!” Not. The enemy. The words sink in slowly. Her sword and the quarterstaff are still touching, lifted up in the air. She's frozen in place. For a second she suspects magic and anger flares inside her._

“ _The tyrant's rebellious daughters. I'm sure you've heard of us, soldier.” She has, of course she has. She wants to say so but it seems like she's forgotten how to talk, like all she knows how to do is fight. So - when she's suddenly and violently ripped out of what's been her life for what feels like weeks – she starts getting a little dizzy, the cave seems to swirl around her._

_“My name is Lace. And what is yours?”_

“Can't I just be Ava?”, she asks and Sara purses her lips. “You know, on every other day I would be more than happy with that-” Ava huffs, resting her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. Sara immediately pulls Ava's arms around her middle, pushing herself back a little so she's firmly in her embrace. Ava tightens her hold while she presses a soft kiss to Sara's neck where it peeks out of the collar of those cute pajamas.

Ava had noticed how Sara'd gotten that bit more clingy in the last couple of month – with how she seemed to always search her out and gravitate towards her, small touches just there to give some comfort, how she'd become more cuddly and snuggly. She'd detected an increase after what happened in purgatory but it had spiked even farther after the crisis. Not that Ava was going to complain. She very much enjoys being the one that does the holding for once. Having Sara in her arms assures her just as much as being there seems to do Sara.

“-more than enough! But I believe this calls for something a little … different. Add a syllable or something. Just think about it!” They're standing in front of the fabricator, instructing the fabrication of a female human fighter mini. The screen shows how far they've gotten. Ava marvels at the details, at how much for being so tiny the figurine looks like her. She frowns at the thick locks hovering around its head.

“The hair looks terribly impractical like that. How is she supposed to see? She's just gonna get caught in everything!” Sara groans. “It's fantasy, my love. Not everything has to make perfect sense.” - “Well, I have been thinking of cutting my hair short.”

Sara is moving so fast that Ava's brain can barely catch up to what's happening. Suddenly Sara is turned around, the most outraged look on her face. “Don't you dare!” Her voice turns into a squeal at the end and Ava doesn't know if she wants to laugh at how much Sara's overreacting to something as trivial as this, at how much of a big deal she makes out of it, how dramatic she is being, or sob at seeing the passion in her girlfriend's eyes.

“Not like all the way short. Just shoulder-length. Or maybe like yours.” Sara brings a hand up to play with the end of a curl and honest to Beebo pouts. “Don't do that, baby. Please”, she says, looking at Ava through her lashes and how could Ava deny her anything when she looks at her like that. Not that she was actually serious (even tough the thought has crossed her mind every once in a while – when she'd had to put it into that tight bun that sometimes gave her a headache. Having it open wasn't always better. It's long and thick and it pulls and at the end of the day she would want nothing more than for Sara to run her fingers through it).

She wasn't serious but she welcomes Sara's try of persuasion, going back to massaging her scalp. She gives it a small tug and Ava's eyes roll back into her head, regretting to ever even have thought of providing less substance for Sara to work with. “Don't worry. I won't”, she says, accompanied by a sigh.  
When she opens her eyes back up Gideon has updated the picture on the screen, considerably shorter hair that sits on her shoulders. “Doesn't look so bad though, does it?”, Ava questions. “Huh?” Sara turns back around, zeroing in on the image. She makes an unhappy noise. “I guess”, she admits through her teeth. “Try it in brown, Gideon!” Ava cocks her head. “Darker. Yeah, that looks nice.”

“While your at it – decrease my cup size, please. Like a lot.” Sara throws her hands in the air. “Okay, that's it”, she exclaims, looking utterly insulted, “Are you trying to kill me? Taking away everything I love!” Ava only raises a brow at her drama. “Oh, is that all you love - my shampoo-ad-worthy hair and my boobs?” Sara looks like she wants to stomp her foot, just so able to restrain herself. "No but" - her face falls - "Yeah, no, I get it. Your back hurts all the time and - I just love felling the weight of them in my hands" - "Well, only because you don't have to carry these things around all day."

Sara buries her head in Ava's shoulder to mumble something that sounds like an uncalled for apology before she focuses back on the fabricator, going back to pursing her lips.  
"You know, now that she doesn't look like you anymore anyways - how about we make her a little shorter, just so she doesn't make me look tiny." The eyebrow that had gone down by now raises back up. "Oh", Ava makes, "We shouldn't do that." She moves her hand to play with a button on Sara's pajama.

"We can't take every last thing my girlfriend loves about me away from her. Boobs and hair are one thing but" - she makes a show of changing her voice, referring to something she'd overheard once and teased Sara with relentlessly ever since - "those legs for days …”

  
_"Ada-" Lace is surprised to hear a female voice. It's scratchy, deep and raw, yes, sounds like it hasn't been used in too long, but it unmistakably belongs to a woman - which Lace had not expected. Heavy plate armor hides any kind of form and a helmet a face._

_The woman is forced to start over, "Adalayne" Lace assumes that she was going to follow up with a last name or such but the battlefield suddenly goes silent and the silence - after days of screaming and clanking steel - is so deafening that it drowns out every attempt of making a sound. It feels like the world has stopped moving._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most importantly: I rolled so friggin well for all their stats but Gary's, it's crazy!
> 
> My twitter: @myfriendsciuto
> 
> I'd love to hear from y'all.


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